Truth in Friend Fiction
by Blame the Templar
Summary: A new serial raises more questions than answers when it causes an uproar among Aveline's guards.
1. Prologue

"A good story, you don't really write. It was always there. You just uncover it."

— Varric Tethras


	2. Chapter 1

Giggling and hushed whispers met Aveline when she entered the barracks that morning. Donnic had gone ahead of her, rallying the shift for roll call. Still several hung around in pairs or groups, their noses buried in small booklets. Aveline sighed inwardly. Already she found herself cursing the day. She stopped in front of two guards by the posted duty roster. "All right, you two. I'm sure it's very interesting, but it's time to get to work."

The first guardsman, a woman with named Moira, closed her booklet like a scolded child. "So sorry, Guard-Captain. Can I ask you something first?" She continued upon receiving a stern nod. "Is it, um, is it true?"

"Is what true?" Aveline responded with a frown.

"The story," she said, holding up the booklet. The cover read _Swords and Shields - Part Three_. "Did you and the knight-captain ever have feelings for each other?" The question prompted a choked giggle from the second guardsman.

Aveline's face burned hot and her jaw set. "That is absolutely none of your business, and how dare you make assumptions from some stupid story!" She snatched the booklets from the guardsmen's hands. "Now get to your places before I have you both dismissed without pay."

The two guardsmen, still in their off-duty clothes, scurried off. _Children,_ she thought. _I'm dealing with children._ With an exasperated sigh, she made a short trip to her office. She gave the booklet a closer inspection and found the author's name, one that shouldn't have surprised her: Varric Tethras. "No wonder," she grumbled to herself, tossing it on her desk and storming back out.

Over the course of the day, the situation grew worse. The more stories Aveline confiscated, the more appeared. Word spread amongst the guards of their red-faced captain and the tale she didn't want them to be told. Every once in a while, Aveline exchanged a tired glance with Donnic, who could only shrug a reply. By the afternoon she'd finally allowed herself to be confined to her desk, mountains of paperwork on all sides.

_Swords and Shields_, all three available instalments, had taken a life of its own. The stacks collected would no longer fit on her desk, and so sat on the floor in the far corner of the room. In her mind, she felt them staring at her, compelling her to come closer. Her occasional pointed glares helped nothing. _What could possibly be so interesting?_ she wondered between glances. When she looked up again, the top-most booklet teetered on the edge of the highest pile.

"Sod this," Aveline hissed under her breath. She shot up from her chair and stormed over to the pile, snatching it from the top. She returned to her desk with her head bowed, only opening the booklet after she sat down.

_Once, in a time not far from now, Ferelden stood alone against the darkspawn. Led by the valiant and foolhardy King Cailan, the army crushed their enemies at every turn, and many believed only one battle remained. They camped at the ruins of Ostagar for their final stand, right on the border of the dreaded Korcari Wilds. As one might expect, the camp was a muddy one, and often smelled like wet dog._

_Among these doglords, though, was beautiful red-haired warrior named Marguerite - a Fereldan with an Orlesian name._

The guard-captain couldn't help but laugh. "Really, Varric? You could have at least given me a prettier name."

Yet she continued to read. She read of Maguerite's curiously familiar escape from darkspawn, and of the husband Fate forced her to leave behind. Each word probed at her mind and tugged at her heartstrings more than she cared to admit. At first she blamed it on mere memories, until suddenly she reached the end. Her bare fingers rubbed at the pages, revealing nothing new that she'd missed. With a sigh, she sat back, reminded of the paperwork still left to do. "I should get back to work." She'd hoped saying it aloud would convince herself to do so. Instead Aveline sat in place and her eyes again fixed on the contraband several feet away.

Against her better judgement, she returned to the stacks. _I know I saw the second one here somewhere. _Aveline found it within a few minutes, twice nearly knocking over a pile. She began to read before she made it back to her chair.

In this instalment, the protagonist and her friend, Hooke-Varric showed quite a skill with names-finally began to make their lives in Kirkwall after a long struggle. Marguerite had just received a new job as a guardsman. However, the real adventure happened in her off-duty hours.

_While walking along the deserted road, Marguerite sensed battle drawing closer. Her impressive muscles twitched with excitement. She and Hooke shared a glance, nodding before running ahead._

_The fighting that awaited them surprised them both. A mass of pride demons surrounded an unseen victim, nothing more than hunks of melting flesh with skirts attached. They screeched and growled, one poised to strike with a clawed hand held high. Suddenly, a bright blue light burst through the demons and pushed them back. They squealed in pain. One reached a shrill pitch as a longsword went through it._

_Marguerite and Hooke charged in. At the centre of the battle they found the handsome knight-captain. Sweat and black demon blood poured down his chiselled beauty nearly distracted Marguerite from an oncoming blow._

Aveline's heart fluttered. A perfect image of Ser Cullen formed in her mind. Though the battle had not been quite so dramatic, she remembered it well. More fondly she remembered the aftermath - the Templar's heavy breaths, his sure and measured speech. Her mouth twitched upward as she wondered what it might be like to-

"I need to stop this." She closed the booklet and tossed it to the side, pulling out the first missive she should have responded to hours ago. A paragraph in, however, she stopped her work to fold the corner of the page where she'd left off in her new distraction. No one would suspect one tiny crease. Looking from side to side as though she might be caught, she stashed the first and second instalment in one of her top drawers. The third, she vowed, she would pick up later. If for no other reason, she could arm herself for the inevitable frustration to come.

Aveline spent the rest of her work day mostly undisturbed. Few messengers came and even fewer guards. Still at least half of her work remained when she heard a heavy knock on the door.

"Enter," she called, putting on her best authoritative voice.

Donnic opened the door and leaned in. He had changed into his off-duty clothes, and his dark helmet hair fell close to his neck and forehead. "Ready to go home, Captain?" He spared a glance toward the paper still on her desk, seeming to guess at her response.

She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, dear. Got a bit behind today. You go on ahead. I'll see you at home."

He nodded with a half smile and left her to it, closing the door behind him.

Aveline didn't make it home until three hours later, long after darkness had settled over Kirkwall.


	3. Chapter 2

_This, my friends, is where it starts to get interesting…_

"Aveline, can I ask you a favour?" Varric helped himself to an uncomfortable chair across from her desk, grimacing as he struggled to get in.

She didn't bother to look up from her work. "Only if it's legal."

He put on his most boisterous, casually offended tone. He thrust his arms out in front of him and swept them to his sides. "Oh, now what do you take me for? Of course it's legal!"

"If it's about the Hanged Man again, you can forget it."

"Aveline, you wound me! How could you think a respectful dwarf such as myself would involve you in his long lost cousin's underhanded schemes?"

The guard-captain's voice grew sterner. "The answer is still no."

"Dammit." Varric pushed off the chair and dropped back onto his feet. "We'll see who's not getting any free drinks when I finally own the place."

He had started toward the door when Aveline lifted her head. "Varric." He stopped, and for a moment she hesitated. "That story you've been writing, the one about the guard."

"Ah, yes," he replied, mirth evident in his voice contrasted by waning panic. "I hear it's the talk of the barracks!"

Aveline's face flushed before she could try to stop it. "Unfortunately, yes. Have you finished the next part?"

A mischievous grin spread wide across the dwarf's face. "Why? Taking a _special_ interest?"

She blushed with her whole body then, the warmth near to burning. "I merely want to know how well I should prepare. I don't want disorder again."

"Tell you what," Varric began, strutting back over to the desk. His hand disappeared beneath his coat and produced a small booklet, identical to the ones confiscated a month before. "This is from the first printing. It won't be official until next week, but you take it. Tell me if you think it'll cause any problems." He tossed it onto her desk with a light smack and headed again for the door. Aveline didn't stop him.

She stared at the newest edition for a long moment. She considered throwing it in the drawer forever, ridding herself of the temptation. Instead she let out a long, exasperated sigh. Her mind buzzed with activity, with questions left unanswered in the last part of this wretched story. She glanced toward the little remaining paperwork at the side of her desk. _Maybe just a page or two..._ she told herself.

_More often than not in Kirkwall, the interests of their forces intertwined. The Templar and the guard found themselves fighting many more battles together - not without a little intervention from Hooke. Turns out you can tell a lot about a person from the way they fight, and Marguerite liked what she saw. She saw the strength of his swing and the cautious use of his shield. She saw the perseverance that lined his weathered, finely chiselled brow. When the battle ended, she saw a man just trying to do his job - a man who mourned every loss._

_The two shared the occasional glance after these battles. In each one she found a mutual understanding, perhaps even a little guarded interest._

The last line struck a chord with Aveline. Had she not known any better, she might have thought Varric had stolen her memories. She remembered their first meeting at Wilmod's camp; she remembered admiring Cullen in the way one warrior does another. Hawke had talked about it for weeks after, making references to torch-carrying and kissing in trees. Funny how the Champion of Kirkwall could be such a child. The then-guard had always denied any accusations brought up to her. Perhaps she had fed the flames more than she realised.

At that time in their lives, she had had no time to dwell on the possible truth in it. Aveline had chosen to ignore the stolen glances Hawke mentioned, and the ones she thought she saw herself. This led her to wonder if the knight-captain had also read this story, if he had been plagued by similar notions. Immediately she dismissed the thought. Even if he had, what good would come from discussing it? There mere idea tied her stomach in knots.

She finished the fourth instalment, called "A Silent Courtship", the same day.

The guard-captain walked home in the dark. On any other night, she might have followed the guard patrols, but Kirkwall had been under a brief moment of quiet. She travelled the seldom-used back streets in Hightown, not a soul in sight. The dim hanging lanterns gave her little light to see by, but memory moved her forward just as well. As she made her way, she chastised herself. She began to reconsider if the memories she had recalled were true at all. She wondered if perhaps they had been coloured by her imagination - and Varric's.

Aveline arrived home to find Donnic waiting for her, reading by candlelight. He lowered the book as she walked in. "Late night again, I see," he said, humourless. "I thought I'd make some dinner for us. It's a bit cold now."

"I'm sorry. I'll heat it up." She passed him by on the way to the kitchen.

"Not even a kiss?" he called after her.

She swore under her breath and returned to him, leaning and planting a lingering kiss on his lips. "Sorry. I've been distracted."

Donnic seemed to accept this answer. He grinned, running his hand over her upper arm. "Templars running you ragged again?"

Aveline grinned in turn and nodded. "Yes. Very much so."


End file.
